


Waking Up at the Start of the End of the World

by mythicalquill



Category: Amnesty - Fandom, The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 10:15:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythicalquill/pseuds/mythicalquill
Summary: And Stern did love Barclay: every facet, every flaw, and in every form. Their time apart, maybe more than their time together, had taught him that. He loved him, Bigfoot or no—although, as the subject of his life’s work, the former had a definite appeal.And as they sat in quiet camaraderie at the end of the world, Stern tried to figure out how to put all of this into words.





	Waking Up at the Start of the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> Here you have it folks, another installment in the “I get overly invested in NPCs and feel the need to analyze their whole characters in short one-shots” series: Stern(clay) edition. (It’s basically Stern’s thoughts in the first half, him & Barclay’s “we’ll talk about this later” in the second.) Enjoy!

As preparations were made for the end of the world, Joseph Stern’s mind was reeling. 

The Pine Guard were right; this was the reality in which he had learned about the true nature of the lodge residents, and look how that had turned out. But — if they had taken him into their confidence sooner, before Ned, before the mountain, while it still could have been possible to keep everything under wraps…? But they hadn’t, and now was no time for what-ifs. Everything happened the way it did; badly, and he didn’t take Aubrey’s word when perhaps he should have. There was no use arguing his perspective now, that knee-jerk reaction wasn’t helpful to anyone. 

So what if he’d had inklings of the strange goings-on at Amnesty Lodge far before Ned’s televised announcement? So what if he hadn’t mentioned the Hornet’s confrontation or the incidents that seemed to occur every two months in his reports, earning him the badge of “incompetent” when the truth did come out? 

It wasn’t as if he’d felt good about Unexplained Phenomena locking up the lodge, displacing its residents and running tests on the Archway, despite his curiosity as to what they might find. If he was being honest with himself, doing his job had been making him feel more and more guilty, as if the means were no longer justified by the end. 

He’d spent the past year getting to know and like the folks at Amnesty Lodge —

Mama, with her dry humor and breathtaking artwork; Moira’s lovely piano concerts at all hours of the day; Dani, always sketching or playing with that bunny; Jake’s affability and sweet stunts; and Aubrey, so full of youth and energy, never still for a moment — and with such a good heart. 

That familiarity made the FBI’s takeover feel much more like a betrayal than some inevitability. The vindication at discovering the cryptids he’d spent his whole life looking for was all but entirely eclipsed by a deep guilt at what it had taken to get there.

And, of course, there was Barclay. 

Where so many in Stern’s life had been cold looks, perpetual distance, veiled dislike; Barclay was warmth, hospitality, acceptance. He was thick, messy hair and well-worn flannel wrapped around his waist; he was scrambled eggs and 6:00AM coffee while the lodge was still quiet and peaceful, during those precious hours of calm before the younger residents rose. Dark brown eyes, perpetual responsibility, and guarded smiles that had grown more genuine with each day that passed, each conversation rendering him more at ease. Late nights bringing Stern coffee — only occasionally spilling it on whatever lead he’d been following up at the time — and always just a shout away, always just a few doors down.

There was something about the proximity the lodge provided that drew them so close together over that year. Stern didn’t think he’d gone a day without seeing Barclay, even when he’d been caught up in treks through the Monongahela and wild-goose-chases after cryptid sightings detailed in the Lamplighter. (He’d quickly learned not to put much stock in Kirby’s publication, although it still provided amusement on occasion.) They and the others had shared meals, quiet evenings in the lobby, afternoons in the hot springs — and even if the furtive glances and sudden conversation halts when Stern entered the room nagged at him, the two connected time and time again in the closeness of the lodge.

But that proximity had been shattered two months ago, along with the mountain’s peak and the residents’ burgeoning trust. Joseph was still Agent Stern to his colleagues, and re-adopted that mantle as he resigned himself to weeks of paperwork and condescending looks at UP’s new Top-Side operation. 

Stern had wondered if maybe that was it, the end to whatever feelings he’d been developing for the man who cooked him breakfast and chatted to him about the lodge’s comings-and-goings, and about the places he had traveled — although Barclay always claimed to forget where exactly that had been. (In retrospect, probably places Bigfoot sightings had occurred). Was it possible that the only reason he’d fallen so hard _ was _ that proximity? But the age-old adage that prevailed was less “out of sight, out of mind,” and rather more “absence makes the heart grow fonder.” Joseph found himself thinking of his friend constantly, more than once turning to voice a thought to someone no longer there. 

That’s how he had spent those lonely months at the FBI’s operation, wondering where the Amnesty residents had gone, hoping they were safe. He did manage to befriend a few of the more tolerable agents, patiently listening to stories about their kids or LARPing adventures while his mind wandered. His thoughts drifted to the domed building he had called his home for the past year, now standing vacant and forlorn not half a mile away.

But now: here they were again, together. And Barclay wasn’t just Barclay, he was Bigfoot, and they’d  _ talk about it later. _

He had done what he could to help those going through the gate, offered explosives he hoped wouldn’t need, and cracked some joke or other. All that was left was him, Mama, and Barclay. The air was thick with tension still — the impending apocalypse has that effect.

He noticed that Mama had moved a short distance away, giving the pair some space. When he caught her eye, he was prepared for a well of betrayal or dislike. After all, she had been more or less a prisoner of his organization for the last few weeks, whether or not he had fought the decision.

Instead of any trace of aversion, however, he watched a small smile play across her weathered face as she gave him a nod. In that instant, he knew: she understood. Mama had been there all those times he came close to the truth and said nothing. She had seen him at the lodge, spoken with him often enough to realize where his loyalties lay — maybe before he even knew himself. She recognized that his failure to report any findings wasn’t due to the incompetence that Haynes suggested, but his camaraderie with the lodge residents and a deeper sense of right and wrong. While the weight of guilt still lingered on Stern’s shoulders, and probably would for a long time to come, he felt it lift — just slightly — at this gesture from a friend. 

Riding the feeling of this small victory, he joined the man sitting atop the currently-motionless crate. 

“So, is  _ now _ a good time to talk?”

Barclay’s face twisted, and it took a second for Stern to tell that he was smiling. It was charming still, in his Bigfoot form. The same humor and warmth at home in a different face. Just something he’d have to get used to. It wasn’t exactly _ unsettling _ , the new hulking form and ape-like features — it was more the fact that Stern now had to re-learn how to read the emotions and quirks of someone he had once known like the back of his hand. It was a side to his friend that he’d never witnessed. 

But adjusting wouldn’t be so hard; you saw new sides of people all the time. And the more someone let you know them, the deeper the connection grew. This was just another part of the man he knew and loved. 

And Stern did love Barclay: every facet, every flaw, and in every form. Their time apart, maybe more than their time together, had taught him that. He loved him, Bigfoot or no — although, as the subject of his life’s work, the former had a definite appeal.

And as they sat in quiet camaraderie at the end of the world, Stern tried to figure out how to put all of this into words. The pleasant shock he felt at this revelation, the sorrow for leaving Barclay behind, the affection and warmth his heart was full of now. A few thousand dumb pick-up lines flashed across his mind unprompted — “I’ve been looking for you my whole life,” etc. 

Eventually, he decided on something much simpler, the nagging truth of his past few months: “I missed you."

There was a slight pause before Barclay answered. “I missed you too. It wasn’t the same at Duck’s place without you. But, uh, thanks for coming around and letting us in. I was worried there, for a second…” He trailed off, and Stern winced inwardly at how close he had gotten to ruining everything  _ again _ . He put on a smile anyway.

“You shouldn’t have been. I’m on your side.”

“I suppose, but you have to understand, I wasn’t really sure if I could trust you. I  _ thought  _ I could, but — ”

“Yeah. I can see that.” Stern was quiet for a moment, before clearing his throat to speak. “I — Hey. You didn’t spend time with me at the lodge just so I wouldn’t be suspicious, right? I mean, I’d totally understand if that’s why you felt like you needed to be nice to me… I don’t know how hard it must have been for you to think I could put you or your friend’s lives in danger at any moment.”

Barclay looked taken aback, then softly shook his head. “I mean, I guess that was how I felt at first — except my strategy then was more avoidance than like, buttering you up, or whatever you’re implying. But soon it became pretty clear you were — no offense — not as much of a threat as we thought you were going to be.”

“Oh?” 

Barclay’s face softened, and he chuckled. “Joseph, I watched those videos you made for Patreon. It was pretty clear you had no idea how to go about finding your own glasses, let alone the literal Bigfoot. Plus, we at Amnesty Lodge have covered our tracks pretty well, so to speak.”

“The Patreon was mostly a joke,” Stern mumbled sheepishly. “Haynes threatened to cut my funding.”

“To answer your question, though, no. Once I got past the initial ‘oh shit there’s an FBI agent looking for me,’ I realized you were genuinely a pretty sweet guy. And… I liked spending time with you. A lot. Occasionally it was nerve-wracking, and I’m not _ delighted _ about how you handled things two months ago… But I’m  _ really  _ glad I don’t have to tiptoe around the whole Bigfoot thing anymore.”

“That must have been pretty hard, considering…”

This earned him a full-on laugh. “It’s really good to have you back.”

“You too.” Stern smiled up at his friend, and the rest of the world melted away. He didn’t care about the apocalypse, the approaching Quell, the fact that he was definitely out of a job. All that mattered at that moment were Barclay’s eyes — the same ones he’d always known in a face that wasn’t yet familiar — and how they were looking at him. 

And when Barclay leaned in and kissed him, even that faded away. It was sweet, brief, and earth-shattering all at once. 

“This doesn’t mean I’m not still a bit upset,” Barclay clarified, pulling back. Stern nodded, attempting to restore solemnity to the expression stubbornly morphing itself into a grin, his heart beating at twice its normal rate. “I just didn’t want the world to end without having done that.”

He could have stayed there indefinitely, fighting that grin and sitting with the man he loved, but a deliberate cough from across the room told him that wasn’t going to be an option. 

“Real sorry to break up a tender moment there, fellas, but it looks like we’ve got company,” Mama called, hoisting Haynes’ rifle, eyes blazing. “You might want to get moving.”

Barclay stood, Stern following close behind. What was oozing under the crate was the least of their worries now, as the door began to rattle and shake. Impulsively, the former FBI agent grabbed Bigfoot’s hand and intertwined their fingers — the size difference being a surprising non-issue. 

And as the creatures of light and destruction came howling against the compound’s door, they turned together, hand in hand, to face the coming storm.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I _tried_ to write this whole thing saying “Joseph” instead of “Stern,” but it felt too weird. Love the name, just didn’t feel right! (Also, totally unrelated, check out my tumblr: the newly minted @josephstern!) _Please_ comment or come talk to me, I really mean it when I say it makes my day.


End file.
